I froze, trembling as the cold metal pressed against my head. “Please, spare me!” I begged, clutching my belly protectively. “You can take my wallet, just don’t hurt me.” My thoughts raced, but one thing was clear. I couldn’t think of terminating this pregnancy anymore. I needed to protect my child, no matter what.
Then I heard a familiar voice chuckle. “Got you! I never knew I could prank you this good.”
I turned around, my fear melting into anger. It was Donald, Timothy’s younger brother, holding his phone like it was a gun.
“Donald!” I yelled, hitting him on the chest as he laughed. “You scared me!”
“I’m sorry, Eden,” he said, still grinning. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll drive you home.”
I agreed, mostly because I was too shaken to argue. Donald dropped me off at the house, but as soon as we arrived, Timothy stormed out of the door, furious.
“Donald, I told you not to step foot in my house again!” Timothy barked.
Before Donald could respond, Sandra appeared from the doorway, looking smug. I couldn’t hold back. “So, your own brother can’t step into your house, but your mistress can?” I snapped.
Timothy’s face twisted in anger. He grabbed my hand, yanking me toward the house. “Let me go!” I shouted, but Donald stepped in to stop him.
“Don’t treat her like this,” Donald said firmly.
Timothy’s response was a punch to Donald’s face. Donald stumbled back, and Timothy dragged me into the house by my hair while I cried out in pain.
When we reached the bedroom, he shoved me onto the bed. “What’s a married woman like you doing with my single brother?” he demanded, his face red with rage.
I sat up, glaring at him. “Oh, you want to talk about married people? What’s a married man like you doing with a half-naked single woman? Oh wait, I know... you’re screwing her!”
His face darkened, and before I could react, he lunged at me, his hands around my neck. “What are you doing with my brother?” he hissed, tightening his grip.
Gasping for air, I managed to choke out, “If you can sleep with someone else, why can’t I?”
He shoved me back, still choking me, and growled, “Stay away from my brother!” Finally, he let go and stormed out of the room, leaving me coughing and in tears.
As I sat there, struggling to breathe, frustration and pain overwhelmed me. How did it come to this? I needed to leave this marriage fast, but my mother’s threat about my father’s hospital bills played in my head. I had to secure his care first.
I have a rich husband who doesn’t spend a dime on me. How can I get Timothy to cover my dad’s hospital bills? Such a useless man, Timothy is.
I woke up, realizing I had cried myself to sleep. It was late, past 1 a.m. Timothy was already snoring beside me. I got up, took a bath, and went to the kitchen. I made a quick pasta dish and sat at the dining table to eat.
While eating, I noticed a paper lying on the table. At first, I ignored it, but curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up and read its content.
Timothy bought house? Not for himself, but for Sandra. The value of that house was more than enough to cover my dad’s hospital bills! I froze, anger rising in my chest. How could he spend so much on her? What exactly was Sandra to him?
I couldn’t even eat anymore. My appetite vanished. But then, an idea struck me. It wasn’t the most appropriate plan, but I had no choice. I stared at Timothy’s signature on the paper and smirked.
By morning, Timothy was ready for work. As he grabbed the papers from the dining table, he looked at me suspiciously. “Did you poke your nose into these papers?” he asked.
I shrugged. “What papers?”
He didn’t answer. He just frowned, grabbed his things, and left. I rolled my eyes, listening as his car drove away.
Moments later, my phone buzzed. I checked the message: “It’s done.”
I smiled. My plan worked perfectly. I decided to skip work that day. Why not? I’m the wife of the boss, and it’s about time I started acting like it.
Later, while scrolling through social media, I saw Sandra’s latest post. She flaunted a Louis Vuitton bag, one that screamed luxury just from the photo. Her caption read: “Get yourself an intentional man who spoils you like mine does.”
I clenched my jaw. She was obviously talking about Timothy. I wondered how many gifts he’d showered her with while I stayed here playing the understanding wife.
Just then, the front door burst open. Timothy stormed in, his face red with anger. I wasn’t shocked. I had been expecting this.
“Eden!” he shouted. “Did you forge my signature and pay for your dad’s hospital bills?” His voice was furious, and I knew I’d hit a nerve.
